


The Crossroads

by autumnstwilight (sewohayami)



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: Angst, F/M, One Shot, some Link/Link suggestiveness, vaguely set in hero's downfall timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 08:09:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11801964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sewohayami/pseuds/autumnstwilight
Summary: In the space between life and death, Link meets a strangely familiar figure.He was in a place of darkness. Misty shadows stretched as far as the eye could see, a glow within them bristling like lightning. With each flash, voices and images reached his senses like a dream, one moment a wolf, the next a boat on the vast sea. Like distant thunder, he could just make out the sounds of voices, though their words were unclear. He rose to his unsteady feet, and squinted in the dim light.





	The Crossroads

**Author's Note:**

> So the ending I wrote is not the ending I was intending, but I'm not quite sure what I was intending to do in the first place so here it is. It's been sitting on my computer for a few weeks waiting to be rewritten, and in the end I decided to just polish up what I had and get it posted. Ladies and gentlemen, the writing process.

He was in a place of darkness. Misty shadows stretched as far as the eye could see, a glow within them bristling like lightning. With each flash, voices and images reached his senses like a dream, one moment a wolf, the next a boat on the vast sea.  Like distant thunder, he could just make out the sounds of voices, though their words were unclear.  He rose to his unsteady feet, and squinted in the dim light.

A  clearing in a sacred forest. A mask with glowing eyes.

Were these memories? They felt familiar and yet so long ago, like something from a forgotten age. They shimmered before him and faded, yet, in the distance he could see a figure that remained solid. Dragging heavy limbs, he made his way towards it.  The ground beneath him was soft and and ash grey, his feet sank into it like sand.

A tune from an ocarina filled his ears. The sound was planitive and mournful, notes dying away echoless in the dust and mist. The instrument was familiar to him, his fingers twitched unconsciously at the memory, unbidden, of playing the same melody. When and where? The question gnawed at him. 

The figure turned. It was a young man, around his own age, clad in green. He too, was a Hylian, with yellow hair and blue eyes.  In fact, there was a surprising resemblance. The stranger’s face was youthful, but something about his presence seemed ancient and foreboding.

Link spoke. “What is this place?”

The figure answered  with meditative calm , “I believe it is part of the Sacred Realm, a threshold that heroes cross when they meet their end. A kind of Elysium. Here, we can hear the echoes of those who have gone before us.”

Something about this young man seemed trustworthy, and Link stepped closer.  He cast his eyes over the youth’s clothing, old and strange, and yet familiar.  As the mist cleared, he saw clearly the hilt of the blade strapped to the young man’s back.  _The Master Sword!_ How could it be here, in this man’s possession?

“Link,” spoke the man in green. “That must be your name. Everyone who comes here has wielded the sacred blade at one point. Some arrive triumphant, at the end of a long and happy life. Others arrive after a more bittersweet victory, having spent the last of their strength. And yet others... They arrive in defeat, allowing Ganon to scour the kingdom of all that is good, until the next hero rises.

One by one, they pass through the gates into the Sacred Realm. Some linger, some do not.”

Flashes of a battle passed through his mind. The rain, the mud, the numbness in his limbs.  Wounds, spilling blood onto the wet earth.  And the Guardians, swarming in their hundreds...

“Am I dead?” he asked.

The other Hylian gave him a sidelong glance.

"No. You are not dead yet. You could still succeed. And that is why I am here.”

He relaxed a little, tension leaving his shoulders that he had not even realized was there. The stranger seemed to be an ally,  one who could provide him with an explanation of what was going on . He asked,

“Is your name also Link?”

“Catching on, I see. Yes, all of us are called Link. We come from different times, perhaps even different worlds, but we are always named Link.”

In a strange way it made sense. Though there were differences between them, were another person to stumble across them, they might be mistaken for  brothers . The oddly familiar figure continued.

“And she is always named Zelda.”

“Zelda...” His chest tightened at the familiarity of that name, not just for _his_ Zelda, but for the strange memories that filled this place, the affection of a hundred heroes for a hundred princesses. He felt it. The two of them parted and found each other like the tide reaching the sands.

Then, another question rose in him, slipping out of his mouth before he could think better of it.

“Are _you_ dead?”

The figure in green let out something almost like a laugh.

“I see you get straight to the point. Yes, I died. A long, long time ago.”

He paused, and then spoke again, more quietly.

“I was one of the failures.”

An excruciating silence followed. Link could hardly condemn this young man, not with his own mission unfinished and precarious as it was, but he was lost for any words that could comfort the ancient hero. The figure in green  spoke again .

“I met... another me, on the crossroads here. He told me of another world he slipped into, one threatened by a masked creature and a moon. Because of my failure, another world I never knew existed was destroyed.”

There was another long and heavy silence. The ancient Link stared into the distance. At length, he seemed to compose himself enough to ask, in an almost friendly tone, “Tell me, what is your Zelda like?”

“She’s...” He paused, searching for the words. “She was a little hard to get to know at first. There was a prophecy, a lot of expectations placed on her, she struggled with it. I didn’t see her smile for a long time. But she really loves learning about ancient technology. You should see how her face lights up when she learns something new! I have no idea what she’s talking about half the time, but I’ll sit up and listen to her until the campfire goes out. She’s... amazing.”

“Of course. How could she be otherwise?” His smile was pained. The young man in green then fell silent, seeming lost in his own recollections. After a pause, the Champion asked,

“What about your Zelda?”

“We first met when we were young, too young to know what any of this meant. Two children, who thought they were ready to take on all the evil in the world.” He laughed bitterly. “Even the sword didn’t trust me. It sealed me in the Temple of Time for seven years, waiting for me to grow up, and in the meantime, he took over. Poisoned everything. I... tried to set things right. I went to the temples, slew the monsters, searched for the sages who would help me. And... I died. Alone in the desert, watching my blood soak into the sand. I prayed to the Goddesses, the ones who had chosen me, the ones who sent me there. Just for enough strength to finish my quest. They were silent.”

The Hylian champion looked at his counterpart sorrowfully. He knew well how capricious the goddesses could be with their aid. Though he had always had faith in the higher powers, it had been tested as he witnessed Zelda’s suffering, and he wondered deep within himself how the goddesses could turn a blind eye to her, someone so devoted, so selfless, if they really meant good, if they were really there. The Link dressed in green continued.

“My Zelda... she was lovely. She cared so much about everything in her kingdom, it killed her to think that Ganon would take it all. When he came to power, she hid herself as a Sheikah. But she came to see me, when she could. She gave me guidance, hope, the knowledge that someone else was fighting for the same reason I was. I was always thinking of her. I wanted to see her again. I wanted...”

He took a deep breath.

“When I died, so did her hopes of defeating Ganon. She could have run away, could have hid for the rest of her life, but she would not abandon her kingdom. So she went to face him alone. She fought well, but the goddesses were as deaf to her prayers as they were to my own. He slaughtered her.”

“My Zelda died.”

His hands were clenched into fists now.

“I loved her and I failed her and she _died!_ ” 

Perhaps it was a trick of the light, everything was strange in this place, but it seemed that the shadows were beginning to lick and crawl at the ankles of the ancient Link. In the dim void, there was the sound of a sword being drawn. Still disoriented and sluggish, the Champion had no time to react before he was forced to the ground, a sword at his throat.

“I’m sorry. I truly am.” 

Cold blue eyes were staring at him.

“You’ve met with a terrible fate, haven’t you? We both have. But I’ve had ten thousand years to think about it. The goddesses play with us like toys. If they wanted, they could snuff out evil like a candle. At the very least, they could give us their true power in our time of need, just enough to win. But they do not.”

Link struggled against the ancient hero, but his grip was inhumanly strong.

“If you die here, no one will ever save your Zelda. She’ll fight him for as long as she can, but eventually the Calamity will consume her, and with her the full power of the Triforce she carries. Nothing will be able to stop him from destroying all of Hyrule. There will never be another Link or Zelda. No more children to send into battle at the whims of the goddesses. No more wars that sweep across the land, destroying everything. The cycle of suffering will end. I think... maybe this is what I was born to do.”

The shadows were unmistakeable now, they crawled up his torso like an oil slick, over his shoulders and down his arms. Even his blade was jet black.

Dark Link leaned forward and gently kissed the hero’s cheek.

“Goodbye, brother,” he said, as the creeping darkness obscured his face.

Everything in Link surged, and he fought back with all his strength. He seized the wrist of the hand  holding  the shadowy blade, and kicked his feet out, tumbling sideways. They grappled together, each trying to stay on top. A jet black boot caught him in the gut, and he sprawled across the floor. He staggered to his feet, and his shadow rose, mirroring him.

The will to fight rose in him, and to his surprise, light gathered into the palm of his hand, forming a familiar blade. The Master Sword was not here. But, in this place of illusions and dreams, perhaps the memory was enough.

And so he fought his reflection. His arm was strong and his aim was true, he had taken down hordes of monsters with barely a scratch. But this was different. The stranger seemed to know every move he would make, perhaps even before he did. His attacks bounced uselessly off the shadowy blade and shield, and though he held his own, his opponent’s strikes hit like a ton of bricks, jarring every joint and bone in his arm. He was not merely fighting himself, but some ancient force that had stagnated and festered here over the millenia. This was no stalemate. He was losing.

“She wouldn’t want you to do this.” He hoped his voice sounded stronger than he felt.

“No.”

Another fearsome blow, he stumbled under the onslaught.

"But she is gone, and I am here. I ceased to be her hero long ago.”

The shadow Link raised his sword above his head.

“I am far beyond her forgiveness. I do not seek it.”

Tired and aching, he raised a shuddering arm to block the strike. There was a blinding flash. When he looked up, a shining arrowhead was protruding from the dark figure’s chest. The shadow looked down in confusion. 

Link saw her first.

Blonde hair to her waist, pale and delicate features, like the golden bow held in her hand, filigree as elegant as lacework. Not his Zelda. She was dressed in royal finery instead of a tunic and leggings, a pale pink instead of a deep blue. Though she was probably the same age, something in her eyes looked older, as though she had seen much more. She moved with graceful certainty, her gaze steadfast. And yet, he knew her, as if he had walked beside her just the same. She lowered her bow, eyes full of a quiet sadness. The other Link slumped to the ground, the shadows darting from his body and retreating into the mist like insects scattering in sudden light. Blood began to pool under him.

The Zelda who had appeared approached them, slowly and deliberately. When she reached the fallen boy, she kneeled, and took his head in her lap. His blood seeped into her dress, but she paid it no mind. The hero in her lap coughed and shuddered. Gently, she brushed the hair from his face, and he stared up at her like a lost child. She was humming a faint tune, something like a lullaby, as she stroked his cheek. He opened his mouth again, as if to speak, but then his face slackened. She reached down a final time to close his eyes.

The silence continued for a long time, it seemed obscene to disturb it. At last, the princess turned to look at Link. Her eyes were steely, and he could not read what was in them. Was it resentment or sorrow? She was so quiet that he was not even sure that she was breathing, so pale that she seemed unreal.

At length, she rose to her feet. She reached out and touched her fingertips to his forehead.

“Champion of Hyrule,” she spoke.

“May the rest of your sleep be dreamless.”


End file.
